The Princess Bride 17 страница

"All of your wishes have been carried out, Highness. Personally I have attended to each detail." He was very tired, Yellin was, and his nerves long past frayed.

"Specify," said the Prince. He was seventy-five minutes away from his first female murder, and he wondered if he could get his fingers to her throat before even the start of a scream. He had been practicing on giant sausages all the afternoon and had the movements down pretty pat, but then, giant sausages weren't necks and all the wishing in the world wouldn't make them so.

"All passages to the castle itself have been resealed this very morning, save the main gate. That is now the only way in, and the only way out. I have changed the lock to the main gate. There is only one key to the new lock and I keep it wherever I am. When I am outside with the one hundred troops, the key is in the outside lock and no one can leave the castle from the inside. When I am with you, as I am now, the key is in the inside lock, and no one may enter from the outside."

"Follow," said the Prince, and he moved to the large window of his chamber. He pointed outside. Below the window was a lovely planted garden. Beyond that the Prince's private stables. Beyond that, naturally, the outside castle wall. "That is how they will come," he said. "Over the wall, through my stables, past my garden, to my window, throttle the Queen and back the way they came before we know it."

"They?" Yellin said, though he knew the answer.

"The Guilderians, of course."

"But the wall where you suggest is the highest wall surrounding all of Florin Castle—it is fifty feet high at that point—so that would seem the least likely point of attack." He was trying desperately to keep himself under control.

"All the more reason why they should choose this spot; besides, the world knows that the Guilderians are unsurpassed as climbers."

Yellin had never heard that. He had always thought the Swiss were the ones who were unsurpassed as climbers. "Highness," he said, in one last attempt, "I have not yet, from a single spy, heard a single word about a single plot against the Princess."

"I have it on unimpeachable authority that there will be an attempt made to strangle the Princess this very night."

"In that case," Yellin said, and he dropped to one knee and held out the envelope, "I must resign." It was a difficult decision—the Yellins had headed enforcement in Florin for generations, and they took their work more than seriously. "I am not doing a capable job, sire; please forgive me and believe me when I say that my failures were those of the body and mind and not of the heart."

Prince Humperdinck found himself, quite suddenly, in a genuine pickle, for once the war was finished, he needed someone to stay in Guilder and run it, since he couldn't be in two places at once, and the only men he trusted were Yellin and the Count, and the Count would never take the job, being obsessed, as he was these days, with finishing his stupid Pain Primer. "I do not accept your resignation, you are doing a capable job, there is no plot, I shall slaughter the Queen myself this very evening, you shall run Guilder for me after the war, now get back on your feet."

Yellin didn't know what to say. "Thank you" seemed so inadequate, but it was all he could come up with.

"Once the wedding is done with I shall send her here to make ready while I shall, with boots carefully procured in advance, make tracks leading from the wall to the bedroom and returning then from the bedroom to the wall. Since you are in charge of law enforcement, I expect you will not take long to verify my fears that the prints could only be made by the boots of Guilderian soldiers. Once we have that, we'll need a royal proclamation or two, my father can resign as being unfit for battle, and you, dear Yellin, will soon be living in Guilder Castle."

Yellin knew a dismissal speech when he heard one. "I leave with no thought in my heart but to serve you."

"Thank you," Humperdinck said, pleased, because, after all, loyalty was one thing you couldn't buy. And in that mood, he said to Yellin by the door, "And, oh, if you see the albino, tell him he may stand in the back for my wedding; it's quite all right with me."

"I will, Highness," Yellin said, adding, "but I don't know where my cousin is—I went looking for him less than an hour ago and he was nowhere to be found."

The Prince understood important news when he heard it because he wasn't the greatest hunter in the world for nothing and, even more, because if there was one thing you could say about the albino it was that he was always to be found. "My God, you don't suppose there is a plot, do you? It's a perfect time; the country celebrates; if Guilder were about to be five hundred years old, I know I'd attack them."

"I will rush to the gate and fight, to the death if necessary," Yellin said.

"Good man," the Prince called after him. If there was an attack, it would come at the busiest time, during the wedding, so he would have to move that up. State affairs went slowly, but, still, he had authority. Six o'clock was out. He would be married no later than half past five or know the reason why.

AT FIVE O'CLOCK, MAX and Valerie were in the basement sipping coffee. "You better get right to bed," Valerie said; "you look all troubled. You can't stay up all night as if you were a pup."

"I'm not tired," Max said. "But you're right about the other."

"Tell Mama." Valerie crossed to him, stroked where his hair had been.

"It's just I been remembering, about the pill."

"It was a beautiful pill, honey. Feel proud."

"I think I messed up the amounts, though. Didn't they want an hour? When I doubled the recipe, I didn't do enough. I don't think it'll work over forty minutes."

Valerie moved into his lap. "Let's be honest with each other; sure, you're a genius, but even a genius gets rusty. You were three years out of practice. Forty minutes'll be plenty."

"I suppose you're right. Anyway, what can we do about it? Down is down."

"The pressures you been under, if it works at all, it'll be a miracle."

Max had to agree with her. "A fantasmagoria." He nodded.

THE MAN IN black was nearly stiff when Fezzik reached the wall. It was almost five o'clock and Fezzik had been carrying the corpse the whole way from Miracle Max's, back street to back street, alleyway to alleyway, and it was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Not taxing. He wasn't even winded. But if the pill was just what it looked like, a chocolate lump, then he, Fezzik, was going to have a lifetime of bad dreams of bodies growing stiff between his fingers.

When he at last was in the wall shadow, he said to Inigo, "What now?"

"We've got to see if it's still safe. There might be a trap waiting." It was the same part of the wall that led, shortly, to the Zoo, in the farther corner of the castle grounds. But if the albino's body had been discovered, then who knew what was waiting for them?

"Should I go up then?" Fezzik asked.

"We'll both do it," Inigo replied. "Lean him against the wall and help me." Fezzik tilted the man in black so he was in no danger of falling and waited while Inigo jumped onto his shoulders. Then Fezzik did the climbing. Any crack in the wall was enough for his fingers; the least imperfection was all he needed. He climbed quickly, familiar with it now, and after a moment, Inigo was able to grab hold of the top and say, "All right; go on back down," so Fezzik returned to the man in black and waited.

Inigo crept along the wall top in dead silence. Far across he could see the castle entrance and the armed soldiers flanking it. And closer at hand was the Zoo. And off in the deepest brush in the farthest corner of the wall, he could make out the still body of the albino. Nothing had changed at all. They were, at least so far, safe. He gestured down to Fezzik, who scissored the man in black between his legs, began the arm climb noiselessly.

When they were all together on the wall top, Inigo stretched out the dead man and then hurried along until he could get a better view of the main gate. The walk from the outer wall to the main castle gate was slanted slightly down, not much of an incline, but a steady one. There must be—Inigo did a quick count—at least a hundred men standing at the ready. And the time must be—he estimated closely—five after five now, perhaps close to ten. Fifty minutes till the wedding. Inigo turned then and hurried back to Fezzik. "I think we should give him the pill," he said. "It must be around forty-five minutes till the ceremony."

"That means he's only got fifteen minutes to escape with," Fezzik said. "I think we should wait until at least five-thirty. Half before, half after."

"No," Inigo said. "We're going to stop the wedding before it happens—that's the best way, at least to my mind. Before they're all set. In the hustle and bustle beforehand, that's when we should strike."

Fezzik had no further rebuttal.

"Anyway," Inigo said, "we don't know how long it takes to swallow something like this."

"I could never get it down myself. I know that."

"We'll have to force-feed him," Inigo said, unwrapping the chocolate-colored lump. "Like a stuffed goose. Put our hands around his neck and kind of push it down into whatever comes next."

"I'm with you, Inigo," Fezzik said. "Just tell me what to do."

"Let's get him in a sitting position, I think, don't you? I always find it's easier swallowing sitting up than lying down."

"We'll have to really work at it," Fezzik said. "He's completely stiff by now. I don't think he'll bend easy at all."

"You can make him," Inigo said. "I always have confidence in you, Fezzik."

"Thank you," Fezzik said. "Just don't ever leave me alone." He pulled the corpse between them and tried to make him bend in half, but the man in black was so stiff Fezzik really had to perspire to get him at right angles. "How long do you think we'll have to wait before we know if the miracle's on or not?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Inigo said. "Get his mouth as wide open as you can and tilt his head back a little and we'll just drop it in and see."

Fezzik worked at the dead man's mouth a while, got it the way Inigo said, tilted the neck perfect the first time, and Inigo knelt directly above the cavity, dropped the pill down, and as it hit the throat he heard, "Couldn't beat me alone, you dastards; well, I beat you each apart, I'll beat you both together."

"You're alive!" Fezzik cried.

The man in black sat immobile, like a ventriloquist's dummy, just his mouth moving. "That is perhaps the most childishly obvious remark I have ever come across, but what can you expect from a strangler. Why won't my arms move?"

"You've been dead," Inigo explained.

"And we're not strangling you," Fezzik explained, "we were just getting the pill down."

"The resurrection pill," Inigo explained. "I bought it from Miracle Max and it works for sixty minutes."

"What happens after sixty minutes? Do I die again?" (It wasn't sixty minutes; he just thought it was. Actually it was forty; only they had used up one already in conversation, so it was down to thirty-nine.)

"We don't know. Probably you just collapse and need tending for a year or however long it takes to get your strength back."

"I wish I could remember what it was like when I was dead," the man in black said. "I'd write it all down. I could make a fortune on a book like that. I can't move my legs either."

"That will come. It's supposed to. Max said the tongue and the brain were shoo-ins and probably you'll be able to move, but slowly."

"The last thing I remember was dying, so why am I on this wall? Are we enemies? Have you got names? I'm the Dread Pirate Roberts, but you can call me 'Westley.'"

"Fezzik."

"Inigo Montoya of Spain. Let me tell you what's been going on—" He stopped and shook his head. "No," he said. "There's too much, it would take too long, let me distill it for you: the wedding is at six, which leaves us probably now something over half an hour to get in, steal the girl, and get out; but not before I kill Count Rugen."

"What are our liabilities?"

"There is but one working castle gate and it is guarded by perhaps a hundred men."

"Hmmm," Westley said, not as unhappy as he might have been ordinarily, because just then he began to be able to wiggle his toes.

"And our assets?"

"Your brains, Fezzik's strength, my steel."

Westley stopped wiggling his toes. "That's all? That's it? Everything? The grand total?"

Inigo tried to explain. "We've been operating under a terrible time pressure from the very beginning. Just yesterday morning, for example, I was a hopeless drunk and Fezzik toiled for the Brute Squad."

"It's impossible," Westley cried.

" I am Inigo Montoya and I do not accept defeat —you will think of something; I have complete confidence in you."

"She's going to marry Humperdinck and I'm helpless " West-ley said in blind despair. "Lay me down again. Leave me alone."

"You're giving in too easily, we fought monsters to reach you, we risked everything because you have the brains to conquer problems. I have complete and absolute total confidence that you—"

"I want to die," Westley whispered, and he closed his eyes. "If I had a month to plan, maybe I might come up with something, but this..." His head rocked from side to side. "I'm sorry. Leave me."

"You just moved your own head," Fezzik said, doing his best to be cheery. "Doesn't that up your spirits?"

"My brains, your strength and his steel against a hundred troops? And you think a little head-jiggle is supposed to make me happy? Why didn't you leave me to death? This is worse. Lying here helpless while my true love marries my murderer."

"I just know once you're over your emotional outbursts, you'll come up with—"

"I mean if we even had a wheelbarrow, that would be something," Westley said.

"Where did we put that wheelbarrow the albino had?" Inigo asked.

"Over by the albino, I think," Fezzik replied.

"Maybe we can get a wheelbarrow," Inigo said.

"Well why didn't you list that among our assets in the first place?" Westley said, sitting up, staring out at the massed troops in the distance.

"You just sat up," Fezzik said, still trying to be cheery.

Westley continued to stare at the troops and the incline leading down toward them. He shook his head. "What I'd give for a holocaust cloak," he said then.

"There we can't help you," Inigo said.

"Will this do?" Fezzik wondered, pulling out his holocaust cloak.

"Where...?" Inigo began.

"While you were after frog dust—" Fezzik answered. "It fit so nicely I just tucked it away and kept it."

Westley got to his feet then. "All right. I'll need a sword eventually."

"Why?" Inigo asked. "You can barely lift one."

"True," Westley agreed. "But that is hardly common knowledge. Hear me now; there may be problems once we're inside—"

"I'll say there may be problems," Inigo cut in. "How do we stop the wedding? Once we do, how do I find the Count? Once I do, where will I find you again? Once we're together, how do we escape? Once we escape—"

"Don't pester him with so many questions," Fezzik said. "Take it easy; he's been dead."

"Right, right, sorry," Inigo said.

The man in black was moving verrrrrry slowly now along the top of the wall. By himself. Fezzik and Inigo followed him through the darkness in the direction of the wheelbarrow. There was no denying the fact that there was a certain excitement in the air.

BUTTERCUP, for her part, felt no excitement whatsoever. She had, in fact, never remembered such a wonderful feeling of calm. Her Westley was coming; that was her world. Ever since the Prince had dragged her to her room she had spent the intervening hours thinking of ways to make Westley happy. There was no way he could miss stopping her wedding. That was the only thought that could survive the trip across her conscious mind.

So when she heard the wedding was to be moved up, she wasn't the least upset. Westley was always prepared for contingencies, and if he could rescue her at six, he could just as happily rescue her at half past five.

Actually, Prince Humperdinck got things going even faster than he had hoped. It was 5:23 when he and his bride-to-be were kneeling before the aged Archdean of Florin. It was 5:24 when the Archdean started to speak.

And 5:25 when the screaming started outside the main gate.

Buttercup only smiled softly. Here comes my Westley now, was all she thought.

IT WAS NOT, in point of fact, her Westley that was causing the commotion out front. Westley was doing all he could to simply walk straight down the incline toward the main gate without help. Ahead of him, Inigo struggled with the heavy wheelbarrow. The reason for its weight was that Fezzik stood in it, arms wide, eyes blazing, voice booming in terrible rage: "I AM THE DREAD PIRATE ROBERTS AND THERE WILL BE NO SURVIVORS." He said that over and over, his voice echoing and reverberating as his rage increased. He was, standing there, gliding down through the darkness, quite an imposing figure, seeming, all in all, probably close to ten feet tall, with voice to match. But even that was not the cause of the screaming.

YELLIN, FROM HIS position by the gate, was reasonably upset at the roaring giant gliding down toward them through the darkness. Not that he doubted his hundred men could dispatch the giant; the upsetting thing was that, of course, the giant would be aware of that too, and logically there must somewhere in the dimness out there be any number of giant helpers. Other pirates, anything. Who could tell? Still, his men held together remarkably staunchly.

It was only when the giant got halfway down the incline that he suddenly, happily, burst into flame and continued his trip saying, "NO SURVIVORS, NO SURVIVORS!" in a manner that could only indicate deadly sincerity.

It was seeing him happily burning and advancing that started the Brute Squad to screaming. And once that happened, why, everybody panicked and ran....

Eight

Honeymoon

ONCE THE PANIC was well under way, Yellin realized he had next to no chance of bringing things immediately under control. Besides, the giant was terribly close now, and the roar of "NO SURVIVORS" made it very hard to do any solid thinking, but fortunately he had the sense to grab the one and only key to the castle and hide it on his person.

Fortunately too, Westley had the sense to look for such behavior. "Give me the key," Westley said to Yellin, once Inigo had his sword securely pressuring Yellin's Adam's apple.

"I have no key," Yellin replied. "I swear on the grave of my parents; may my mother's soul forever sizzle in torment if I am lying."

"Tear his arms off," Westley said to Fezzik, who was sizzling a bit himself now, because there was a limit as to just how long a holocaust cloak was really good for, and he wanted to strip a bit, but before he did that, he reached for Yellin's arms.

"This key you mean?" Yellin said, and he dropped it, and after Inigo had taken his sword, they let him run away.

"Open the gate," Westley said to Fezzik.

"I'm so hot," Fezzik said, "can I please take this thing off first?" and after Westley's nod, he pulled the flaming cloak away and left it on the ground, then unlocked the gate and pulled the door open enough for them to slip through.

"Lock it and keep the key, Fezzik," Westley said. "It must be after 5:30 by now; half an hour left to stop the wedding."

"What do we do after we win?" Fezzik said, working with the key, forcing the great lock to close. "Where should we meet? I'm the kind of fellow who needs instructions."

Before Westley could answer, Inigo cried out and readied his sword. Count Rugen and four palace guards were rounding a corner and running toward them. The time was then 5:34.

THE WEDDING ITSELF did not end until 5:31, and Humperdinck had to use all of his persuasive abilities to get even that much accomplished. As the screaming from outside the gate burst all bounds of propriety, the Prince interrupted the Archdean with gentlest manner and said, "Holiness, my love is simply overpowering my ability to wait—please skip on down to the end of the service."

The time was then 5:27.

"Humperdinck and Buttercup," the Archdean said, "I am very old and my thoughts on marriage are few, but I feel I must give them to you on this most happy of days." (The Archdean could hear absolutely nothing, and had been so afflicted since he was eighty-five or so. The only actual change that had come over him in the past years was that, for some reason, his impediment had gotten worse. "Mawidge," he said. "Vewy old." Unless you paid strict attention to his title and past accomplishments, it was very hard to take him seriously.)

"Mawidge—" the Archdean began.

"Again, Holiness, I interrupt in the name of love. Please hurry along as best you can to the end."

"Mawidge is a dweam wiffin a dweam."

Buttercup was paying little attention to the goings on. West-ley must be racing down the corridors now. He always ran so beautifully. Even back on the farm, long before she knew her heart, it was good to watch him run.

Count Rugen was the only other person in the room, and the commotion at the gate had him on edge. Outside the door he had his four best swordsmen, so no one could enter the tiny chapel, but, still, there were a lot of people screaming where the Brute Squad should have been. The four guards were the only ones left inside the castle, for the Prince needed no spectators to the events that were soon to happen. If only the idiot cleric would speed things along. It was already 5:29.

"The dweam of wuv wapped wiffin the gweater dweam of everwasting west. Eternity is our fwiend, wemember that, and wuv wiw fowwow you fowever."

It was 5:30 when the Prince stood up and approached the Archdean firmly. "Man and wife," he shouted. "Man and wife. Say that!"

"I'm not there yet," the Archdean answered.

"You just arrived," the Prince replied. "Now!"

Buttercup could picture Westley rounding the final corner. There were four guards outside waiting. At ten seconds per guard, she began figuring, but then stopped, because numbers had always been her enemy. She looked down at her hands. Oh, I hope he still thinks I'm pretty, she thought; those nightmares took a lot out of me.

"Man and wife, you're man and wife," the Archdean said.

"Thank you, Holiness," the Prince said, whirling toward Rugen. "Stop that commotion!" he commanded, and before his words were finished, the Count was running for the chapel door.

It was 5:31.

***

IT TOOK A full three minutes for the Count and the guards to reach the gate, and when they did, the Count could not believe it—he had seen Westley killed, and now there was Westley. And with a giant and a strangely scarred swarthy fellow. Something about the twin scars banked deep into his memory, but now was not the time for reminiscing. "Kill them," he said to the fencers, "but leave the middle-sized one until I tell you" and the four guards drew their swords—

—but too late; too late and too slow, because as Fezzik moved in front of Westley, Inigo attacked, the great blade blinding, and the fourth guard was dead before the first one had had sufficient time to hit the floor.

Inigo stood still a moment, panting. Then he made a half turn in the direction of Count Rugen and executed a quick and well-formed bow. "Hello," he said. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

And in reply, the Count did a genuinely remarkable and unexpected thing: he turned and ran. It was now 5:37.

KING LOTHARON AND QUEEN Bella arrived at the wedding chapel in time to see Count Rugen leading the four guards in a charge down the corridor.

"Are we too early?" Queen Bella said, as they entered the wedding chapel and found Buttercup and Humperdinck and the Archdean.

"There is much going on," the Prince said. "All, in due time, will come matchlessly clear. But I fear there is a strong possibility that, at this very moment, the Guilderians are attacking. I need time alone in the garden to formulate my battle plans, so could I prevail upon you two to personally escort Buttercup to my bedchamber?"

His request was, naturally, granted. The Prince hurried off then, and, after one stop to unlock a closet and remove several pairs of boots that had once belonged to Guilderian soldiers, he hurried outside.

Buttercup, for her part, walked very slowly and peacefully between the old King and Queen. There was no need ever to worry, not with Westley there to stop her wedding and take her away forever. The truth of her situation did not take genuine effect until she was halfway to Humperdinck's room.

There was no Westley.

No sweet Westley. He had not seen fit to come for her.

She gave a terrible sigh. Not so much of sadness as of farewell. Once she got to Humperdinck's room, it would all be done. He had a splendid collection of swords and cutlery.

She had never seriously contemplated suicide before. Oh, of course she'd thought about it; every girl does from time to time. But never seriously. To her quiet surprise, she found it was going to be the easiest thing in the world. She reached the Prince's chamber, said good night to the Royal Family, and went directly to the wall display of weaponry. The time was then 5:46.

INIGO, AT 5:37, was so startled at the Count's cowardice that for a moment he simply stood there. Then he gave chase and, of course, he was faster, but the Count made it through a doorway, slammed and locked it, and Inigo was helpless to budge the thing. "Fezzik," he called out desperately, "Fezzik, break it down."

But Fezzik was with Westley. That was his job, to stay and protect Westley, and though they were still within view of Inigo, Fezzik could do nothing; Westley had already started to walk. Slowly. Weakly. But he was, under his own power, walking.

"Charge it," Fezzik replied. "Slam your shoulder hard. It will give for you."

Inigo charged the door. He slammed and slammed his shoulder, but he was thin, the door otherwise. "He's getting away from me," Inigo said.

"But Westley is helpless," Fezzik reminded him.

"Fezzik, I need you," Inigo screamed.

"I'll only be a minute," Fezzik said, because there were some things you did, no matter what, and when a friend needed help, you helped him.

Westley nodded, kept on walking, still slowly, still weak, but still able to move.

"Hurry," Inigo urged.

Fezzik hurried. He lumbered to the locked door, threw his bulk against it hard.

The door held.

"Please," Inigo urged.

"I'll get it, I'll get it," Fezzik promised, and he took a few steps back this time, then drove his shoulder against the wood.

The door gave some. A little. But not enough.

Fezzik backed away from it now. With a roar he charged across the corridor and when he was close he left the castle floor with both feet and the door splintered.

"Thank you, thank you," Inigo said, already halfway through the broken door.

Дата добавления: 2015-10-31